


Dick Gets the Letter

by Elise_51



Series: This is All Roy's Fault [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Batfamily (DCU), Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne is Trying to be a Good Dad, Canon scrapped for parts, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Don't worry, Gen, Good Friend Roy Harper, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd Swears, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd is Robin, Jason has the Arkham Knight J on his face, Like just the one time, M/M, POV Dick Grayson, Pre-Slash, The character death warning is just Jason's, Tim Drake is Red Robin, because it's sad and I like it, but he's not always great at it, he doesn't die again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29991510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elise_51/pseuds/Elise_51
Summary: Dick gets Jason's letter. That wasn't supposed to happen! Goddamnit Roy. Dick thinks about his relationship with Jason Todd all these years--the good, the bad, the ugly.Post RHATO #25, canon lovingly scrapped for parts and all that.-----------------------------------Best understood when read after "Dear Dickhead," but it's not totally necessary.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Roy Harper/Koriand'r
Series: This is All Roy's Fault [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2206059
Comments: 19
Kudos: 96





	Dick Gets the Letter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spacecapes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacecapes/gifts).



> Thank you to everyone who liked and commented on "Dear Dickhead"! This isn't Dick's reply, yet, but I think you may get a kick out of it.
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful beta, storyshark2005.
> 
> Thank you to Spacecapes, I've really enjoyed reading you! Dick's reply is coming, this is what I've got in the meantime! If you haven't read their Valentine's Day work...go do that right now!
> 
> I think every Jaydick writer needs to take a crack at this complicated relationship as it develops over the years--this is my crack at it.
> 
> BONUS: There are at least two references to Pretty Woman in this fic. Jason and Bruce both seem to know the film as seen in RHATO Rebirth #32. Watch the necklace moment on youtube here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sNYalWdtPSA&t=92s  
> Apparently, Richard's Gere's little "snap" was improvised.

He gets the letter. 

Hand delivered to the precinct by, according to Norma at the front desk, “a handsome red haired gentleman in need of sleeves and a haircut. Very friendly. And I’m to tell you that a Kori says hello. I didn’t ask how to spell it.” 

Dick is then told he looks “terrible” and that he’s either “working too hard or hardly working!”, something Norma tells him everyday. He repeats his obligatory “little of both, Norma” and moves on.

Despite his showered and shaved appearance, Dick’s barely functional at this hour. Patrol had been blessedly quiet, he’d gone to bed by two; but as soon as his head hit the pillow all he could see was Jason’s pistol pressed to Penguin’s forehead. Bruce’s haunted face at the cave, his refusal to let Tim or Dick engage with their all but estranged brother. 

Something big had gone down, something worse than the usual Bruce-Jason Drama Hour. Nightwing had already surveyed Jason’s known safe houses; all (known) appeared untouched. Hopefully Jason was being sheltered by Artemis and Bizarro, his Outlaws, his partners. His _family_. 

And hasn’t that always been a touchy subject with Jason? Dick’s not jealous of Jason’s intimacy with his Outlaws, not exactly. But he feels guilty because that should be him. Jason should be coming to his _brothers_ for help, his _actual_ family. 

Dick has zero time to read until the lunch hour, escaping to a corner booth at a nearby cafe. On the envelope, a messy “Officer Grayson” is scrawled across the front. It’s not sealed, just tucked into itself.

There’s a bright orange post-it stuck to the folded over sheaf of pages, same handwriting as on the envelope. Roy even signed off with an little arrow penetrating a disturbingly anatomically correct bleeding heart, 

> _I know a little about not wanting to ask for something you really need._
> 
> _Don't tell him I gave you this or he'll shoot me in my face._
> 
> _-Roy_

He’d even left Jay’s current number. This little treasonous act would probably get Roy shot ten times over, but Dick’s grateful to see it.

It’s an incredible letter in the bare fact of Dick having Jason Todd’s actual thoughts, pen to paper, in his hand. It was unreal. Jason kept everything close to the chest, trusted very few people with his life, and even fewer with his heart. Maybe nobody with that. It should make Batman proud.

And yet, here, addressed to Dick Grayson of all people, there’s almost a whole life sketched out, straight out of the Dickens stories Bruce used to read aloud when he first came to the Manor. Just the bare sweepings of a life, details certainly never shared with Dick: the sad, scrappy kid before Robin, his ferocious return, his struggle to hold on to his sanity, his painstaking journey to trust again: 

> ... _my old man_ ... _used to whale on me pretty good_ ... _thankful I was when Bruce found me._ .. _got to be useful...coming through for Bruce...the best days...put The Mission before his family...it hurts...if he ever loved me, he loved me a hell of a lot more when I was dead...never should have believed in me...like watching that clock tick down in the warehouse_ ... _I’m sorry for everything_ …

And had it all been shattered? There are a few lines that send a chill sweeping over Dick’s body, but there’s one passage that really stops his heart:

> _I wish I had never come back._ ~~_I’m not trying to sound suicidal, but_~~ _I think I should never have come back. I think maybe things that are dead should just stay that way._

Something really bad had happened. 

* * *

Dick remembers the first time they spoke alone after Jay’s return. 

Things were still raw, but there was relief in seeing Jason without the weight of Bruce at his shoulder, or having to worry about Tim’s safety. 

Dick had followed his brother to a safe house on the east edge of Burnley, something nagging at him he couldn't identify. Standing orders were to never engage Jason without Bruce, certainly never alone. 

He sees the leather jacket thrown over a chair, follows a trail of clothes to the bathroom. Spots of blood like breadcrumbs, but the kind you hate finding.

He finds the Red Hood hoodless, in boxer briefs, attempting a shaky patch job on the edge of the bathtub. A deep wound in the meat of his left trapezius bleeds dangerous and steady, dark venous blood running all the way down his strong legs. 

Jason grips a hemostat in one hand, but Dick is more or less preoccupied with the pistol pointed directly at his head. 

He hadn't exactly been silent coming in; sneaking up on Jason got you dead pretty quick.

The gun is held rock steady while the rest of Jason looks like total shit, sweating and shaking. He shouldn't be able to hold that arm up at all, let alone keep a gun still, but this was a guy who had crawled and clawed up and out of his own grave. So.

"You got a death wish, Dickie?" He sounds rough, shaky but hyper alert in the way you get right before you use up everything and pass out. 

"You need to stop fighting crime in a leather jacket, little brother."

"Yeah, I look good doin’ it though." 

It wasn't said with a wink and a smile like it should have been, and there was still the matter of the gun in his face, but Dick feels something shift a little in the air. A little of the old Jay. He needs to be careful, but it’s had to concentrate because here’s Jason in front of him again. His Little wing.

It’s really the first time he’s seen Jason’s bare face this close up, no hood no domino. Naturally, it’s also the first time Dick’s seen the facial scar in person, Joker’s brand cut or burned in just under Jason’s left eye. It was terrible, the raised white “J” should have washed away in the waters of Lazarus. But in Dick’s experience, magic was tricky, unpredictable. He’s never understood its rules which was why he hated it altogether--all the Bats did. Dick can’t imagine what it’s like seeing that in the mirror everyday. 

The roguish wisp of white in his dark hair actually suits Jason, but the autopsy Y was a true surprise--Dick doubts Bruce knew about that one. It’s a reminder in the most visceral way, that Jason’s journey back to the living, back to his _family_ , had been one unending nightmare after another. 

There’s no safe place to let his eyes rest, so he keeps his gaze on Jason’s. But even that was tainted with an unfamiliar green.

"Like what you see?" It's not playful at all, but a warning, a defiant taunt. There's fear beneath too, self hatred almost certainly. Jay’s breathing is pretty ragged; he's a wounded animal ready to maul any do-gooder dumb enough to get too close. 

Well. No one ever accused Dick of being the smart Robin in the family. 

He wills his body to relax just a little more; keep everything slow, clear, predictable.

"Exit wound?"

"Huh uh," a sharp shake of the head.

Not ideal, the wound’s at a terrible angle. "Let me help."

"He know you're here?"

"Absolutely not." 100% no. Bruce would kill him if Jason doesn't beat him to it. 

“Try anything, I’ll put you on the floor, Dick.”

“I know.”

“I’m not goin’ to Arkham.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m not so sure.”

Dick gives a little shug. “Might surprise you.”

“I don’t like surprises much.”

“No surprises then. Keep the gun.” 

There’s hesitation before a stiff nod, and the gun comes down bonelessly. 

Dick trades his reinforced gloves for nitrile, reaching for the hemostat already slick with Jason's blood. Jason doesn’t want him in a blind spot, so Dick’s angle of attack requires one boot in the tub, the other knee up on the tub’s edge, positioned in front to lean over the shoulder wound. It’s almost impossible the man before him is the same scrappy kid who ran away with Robin before Dick could say _Holy Mantle Snatcher, Batman!_

He's never noticed the freckles dotting over Jay’s back and shoulders--but then they've never been this physically close before. Just above the bullet wound, another scar--newer than the rest--catches Dick's eye. It's a wicked cut, arching over where shoulder meets neck, suture marks puncturing up and down both sides of the fading mark.

He wants to ask about it, wants to ask so many things, but they don't have that kind of relationship. Not yet.

“It's good to have you back, Jay."

"I doubt that.”

Dick only half tamps down a sigh of frustration--talking with Jason these days is like trying to hug a cactus and not get poked. Or shot. Like if the cactus carried guns and had a short temper, and smelled shockingly good this close up...anyways…

They fall into a welcome silence, surprising to Dick considering he’s digging around in the other man’s shoulder; but Jason doesn’t move aside from sporadic little quakes all over. He could probably use a blanket and pint of blood or so, but it had to be one thing at a time these days. 

“You’re lucky you didn’t hit an artery. Lotta nerves to damage up here too.”

Something suspiciously like “Hrnn” comes out of Jason.

“What was that? You know who you sound like, right?”

There’s a metallic tap at his ankle, a little reminder. “I can still shoot you.”

Dick gives his best Bruce grunt in reply, and he can only imagine if he gets a smile out of it. Probably not.

He’s trying to be careful with the wound, but it’s pretty deep and the lighting is not ideal. 

“You weren’t wearing armor?”

“The jacket is reinforced, I took it off.”

Why would you do that. “Why would you do that?”

“Because none of your fuckin’ business is why.”

Dick can’t help but snort, “I’m completely whelmed by your warm and fuzzies, Jay.”

"You know, this is actually all your fault."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I tried to be nice for once. Instead of shooting this little fucker in the face like I should have, I tried to start with a polite discussion."

"That was very mature." 

"I thought so. But his dumbass girlfriend, the one I was _helping_ by the way, decided I was a threat to her shining knight. You know, the one who’d been dragging her by the hair down a dirty alley.”

Dick pauses to let it sink in. “Did you lend this poor damsel your jacket?”

“I sure as shit took it back. Fuckin’ ungrateful...”

“So how’d you leave ‘em?”

“I think they’re still breathing if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Think I’m rubbing off on you?”

“You wish, Pretty bird.”

Dick laughs because he doesn’t get embarrassed anymore. You don’t back flip around Gotham in a feathered V-neck disco suit, and not lose the ability to feel embarrassment. 

He finally feels his target with the hemostat, gets a decent grip on the slug, clamps down and pulls maybe a bit too slowly. He feels Jason tense up.

“Got it. Almost done, Little wing.”

He thanks the Gotham gods the little scrap of fabric wrapped around the bullet looks intact. He takes a minute to unfold it, and compare the shape to the hole in Jason’s bloody shirt; it’s a good match, there’s nothing missing. Dick says as much and Jason gives a quiet hum of acknowledgement. 

Cleaning with iodine finally gets a curse or five, and Dick tries his best not to freak out when Jason allows his head to rest against Dick’s hip while he sutures the wound shut. He’s got a good view of Jason’s carotid pulsing a little too fast, but it was there. His brother was alive. Things would get better, he’d make sure of it.

  
  


* * *

There were plenty of bad times in the months and years to come. They’d get along one moment, the next Jason had his hackles up, set off by who knows what. Invitations to dinner at the Manor, or to pass along a greeting from Alfred--such suggestions were met with stony silence at best. Even the vaguest reference to the fact that Jason was still “part of the family” could get a boot to the solar plexus. 

Why keep trying? Because he’s Dick Grayson, that’s why. Because Jason deserved it, that’s why. It was many trials and many, many errors. 

_“You’re what?”_

_“I’m--We’re brothers. Even if things haven’t always been--”_

_“Yeah, we’re really not. Maybe if you hadn’t been so busy.”_

Jay has a sneering way of saying “busy,” giving it a thousand implications. And it was true. He hadn’t been around much for Jason. After losing Robin, the Titans had been his whole world.

_“Looks like you’re less busy with Replacement, though. Good for him, he must have figured out something I didn’t.”_

Yeah, thinks Dick, he didn’t fucking die and change everything. 

_"I'm sorry. I should have been around more."_

There's an affirmative silence.

_“Look, Jay, I know it’s late but I’m trying now. You’ve got family. We want you home.”_

_“Oh, it’s been made very clear to me who is and who is not my family.”_

Jason was never more cruel than when he felt backed into a corner, and he all but lived in a corner these days. It was best to just let him get everything out. All the poison, all the Lazarus. 

But Dick knows the pain stems from before Jason’s death. The look on Jay’s face after Dick asked about Garzonas--it haunted his dreams for years, and now seemed to Dick the true beginning of the end. Everything downhill after that, any trust between them just shattered.

_“See, Dickie, I'm an annoyance until I'm convenient. You’re the guy Bruce sends when he needs something from the Red Hood. Something outside the neat little parameters of Batman’s Righteous Mission for Truth and Justice.”_

_“You know that’s not true.”_

_“No, I know exactly how true that is.”_

Dick feels himself getting angry. It’s not like he hasn’t been trying, god help him. He’s been trying so goddamn hard to put this family back together, a hell of a lot harder than Bruce. Because, despite Bruce’s intelligence and a deep love for Jason Dick had never doubted, Bruce doesn’t like digging around in old wounds. He’ll earn new ones every night, but god forbid he talk about old hurts--especially the ones that ached the most.

_“It’s not why I’m here now. I don't know what I'm supposed to say to you. I've tried--you've refused every invitation to dinner at the Manor. You refuse to work with Tim, even though he’s done everything short of turning back time to make things better between you two. You refuse to step foot in the Cave even for a goddamn debrief--”_

_“I don't accept conditional invitations.”_

Sometimes Dick could swear that Jason wants to be the enemy, wants to be alone forever. Like he’s forgotten that there had ever been anything good between them. And this was wrong, because there had been moments. Not many, but they existed, and they were important.

_“Jay, nothing is conditional here. We all want you back home, especially Bruce. He just doesn’t know how to say it.”_

_“No no no, see he knows exactly how to say it. I'm only to step foot in_ **_his_** _house, in "_ **_his_** _city," when I play by_ **_his_** _rules.”_

Christsake, there was just the one rule. Bruce had turned a blind eye to the guns for a while now.

_“You haven't killed anyone in a long time, Jay.”_

_“You don't know everything.”_

Fuck. 

He knew, he **knew** Jason had been trying, despite every hateful, sneering comment, to kill less. They had all noticed, especially Bruce. It had meant something, everything even.

_“Little wing--”_

_“Don't--don't do that. You don't get to do that anymore. I'm not playin' nice at dinner just to have the door slammed in my face the next time B finds out I put some Park Row animal out of its misery. I don’t need you or any other of Bruce’s soldiers coming to my door to “handle” me. I don’t need your dinner invitations, your unsolicited advice, your pity, or whatever the fuck else happens to be on that week’s edition of “What’s wrong with Jason.””_

It was a bad night.

That last part had stung, mostly because it contained a shard of truth. Conversations about Jason around the Batcave usually involved damage control or, just as Jay had put it, how to “handle” him. Fun little family seminars like “Tips and Tricks When Approaching the Red Hood Without Getting Your Head Blown Off,” that sort of thing. 

He doesn’t see Jason for weeks. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


A lifetime ago, he used to stay away weeks and months at a time when Jason was Robin. Weeks and months spent with Wally and Donna, Roy and Garth. It was ridiculous how much of a stranger Roy was to him now, they had been so close. 

He’d brought Jason up to the Tower only once at Bruce’s request--it’d been weird. A lot like Damian's introduction to the younger Titans actually. Jay had been brash, overconfident, overly aggressive, overly everything. Day one had Jason calling Roy out on sloppy close combat technique, asking Garth if he thought he'd be "useless in desert warfare," and wondering aloud to everyone if it was tradition to rely on Robin's leadership "like the JLA leans so heavily on Batman since obviously Superman couldn't strategize his way out of a paper bag."

That hadn’t gone over super well.

Obviously the kid had needed a little guidance, self-assurance, someone to be less of a hardass than Bruce once in a while. Someone to have his back, and to be a mentor; or maybe just a friend. If Dick had been there more...it made him sick to remember how badly he’d failed Jason. 

Just the little things. Forgotten promises to spar together. Unanswered texts. Sneaking out for a patrol with Wally and Roy, purposefully ducking Jason for the day; the look on Jay’s face after realizing he’d been deliberately avoided. A flimsy excuse from Dick. The rest of his stay bent stiffly over a book, snapping at anyone who made an effort to engage. Dick hadn't tried very hard to ease the friction, secretly enjoying how well he had made out in comparison to this defensive, angry kid:

_What’s wrong with Jason?_

_Your replacement’s kind of a prick, Rob._

_You’ll always be our Robin, Dick. You know that, right?_

After Jason went home, the conversation with Bruce had been short:

_What happened?_

_I don’t know. He doesn’t exactly make it easy on himself. It’s not my fault if he can’t take any criticism and sulks in his room all day._

_The whole point of the visit was for you to demonstrate the strategies and benefits of well executed team dynamics--_

_You fired me, it's not my job to break the replacement in for you._

_Don't call him that, he's your brother._

_No, he's just the first orphan you managed to stumble upon with a sob story and a big enough chip on his shoulder to fit the job description. It's not my fault you picked the angriest, most defensive kid in Crime Alley--_

_It's something we're working on, and it's why I was hoping you'd make a positive impression--_

_You have no idea what you're asking. Robin meant everything to me, it was my name, my colors, my family! And you took it from me and gave it to some random kid, and you're asking me to fix him for you--_

Bruce hung up abruptly, but not before apologizing stonily “for any imposition we may have caused." 

It was that _we_ that got to him: Batman and Robin as an all-inclusive _we_. Dick had hurt Jason, and Bruce was letting him know it. Bruce used to be protective of Dick like that, and it had hurt to feel himself cast as the antagonist. 

Dick finds his own behavior unimaginable now. It had been such an asshole move to invite Jason up only to basically ignore him. That had been a hard lesson, and he can’t imagine setting Tim or Dami up to fail like that, all the cards stacked against what should have been an easy introduction to meeting new friends, new peers. And it aches in a way he hardly understands, thinking about Jason cooped up alone in the Manor for the holidays. 

He’d felt bad enough after the New Year to plan a visit home for a couple days. Alfred and, to his surprise, Bruce had both been at the door to greet him. Bruce has this terrible way of making you want to kill him and kill _for_ him all in the same moment. Today he looks like home.

"Hey, B."

"It's good to have you home, chum."

He gets a tight hug that signaled another of Alfred’s talks about showing affection had sunk in, and Dick was grateful for it. 

“Jay’s in the library if you want to say hello.” 

Batman’s first Robin knows an order when he hears one. He finds his successor tucked away in the big window seat. It has one of the best views of Wayne Manor’s grounds.

“What’re you reading?”

“Nothing.” Jay’s head sinks lower behind _Jane Eyre_.

“I’m sorry. I was a jerk.”

“B sent you in here, I bet.”

“Yeah. But I mean it.”

“It’s fine."

“I was wondering if you’d like to spar later?”

“I don’t need you feeling sorry for me.”

“Look, that’s not...I’m asking because I want to. Wally, Donna, and Garth are all metas, they don’t take training that seriously. And, as you saw, Roy thinks he can neglect close combat. I could honestly use the practice, and I owe you anyways. I’d like to. Please.”

“Roy’s an idiot.”

Dick chokes on a laugh, it was so unexpected. Jason’s face peeks over his book, cheeks a little pinker; he looked so young. Dick nods amiably, “Yes, he is. He's smart but he's dumb too."

"I know I'm not...I'm not easy."

"The best things never are."

"You sound like a Hallmark special."

"Why's everyone keep telling me that?" This finally gets a snort and a dimpled smile. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll spar with you later. But I gotta finish this section first.”

“Cool. Yeah I'll be...just come find me whenever.” He sounds like an idiot, but feels better for the first time in months.

Dick ends up staying almost two weeks until Jason’s school starts again. Two months later he gets a package mailed from the Manor, three birthday presents including a beautifully illustrated _History of the Circus_ \--mostly photographs and vibrant old advertisement flyers. The note was very Jason:

> _“I wasn’t sure how well you could read, so I made sure to get something with lots of pictures._
> 
> _Happy Birthday, Dickhead.”_

Jason was easy with his forgiveness then. 

* * *

Sometimes it was different, especially lately. Little moments Dick held onto, as precious as his few surviving photos of Mary and John Grayson. 

Like a slow patrol just a couple months back, cold enough to keep criminals inside all night. He was in Gotham for the winter holidays, a nice break for college students and high schoolers; this was a fact only important to him since it meant his brothers were free for a few weeks. 

He misses Tim and Dami like crazy. 

Tonight he needs a break from his thoughts and leaves Robin and Red Robin to bicker about something hyperintellectual, something totally beyond Dick. Tim had been studying medieval Arabic toxicology? 

Between college and Young Justice, Tim's been away the better part of two years; Dami had been oddly quiet about “Drake's" upcoming visit home. This should have been cause for concern (some master scheme of Dami’s to rid the world of Drake once and for all!!) and yet tonight Dick hasn’t had to watch Tim’s back _at all._ Damian was too busy complaining about _Dick_. 

Tim had laughed at Damian’s jokes...Damian had told a joke! It was just bizarre. Totally great, but totally bizarre.

Dick’s just thankful the death threats and physical violence have settled down between his two little brothers. He used to have to watch Dami like a hawk, used to make sure Tim always carried extra grapple hooks in case Dami cut his line again. 

Jesus, he has a weird family.

Maybe it's this thought of family pulling him through the night, itching to find what's been missing. Family or...something else. 

His gut takes him east to a familiar old gargoyle, high up in the cold winter air. 

Bruce's amused baritone, _He's the only kid I've ever met who has a favorite gargoyle._

Bingo. The tightness he's been carrying around all night eases a bit as he makes his way to Red Hood as noisily as possible. 

The red helmet’s set off to one side, and Jay’s not even wearing a domino. It’s a rare sight, and a nice one. His leather jacket remains open even in this weather, which seems crazy, but Jason runs hot these days. He’s got a steaming thermos cap of black gas station coffee in one hand, a cigarette clipped between two bare fingers in the other. It usually drives Dick crazy, but maybe he’s going insane because lately he thinks it all smells nice: coffee, leather, tobacco--it’s all just Jason now.

"Heya, Bluebird."

“Hey Jay.”

Dick settles down, not too close. He’s always having to remind himself to give Jason enough space. He shivers as a blast of cold air somehow cuts through his kevlar.

"So the Outlaws are in town?"

There’s a nice long drag on the cigarette. "Little bit."

“How they doing?”

“Fuckin’ like bunnies. So pretty damn good I think.”

Dick laughs at Jason’s smirk, leaning back on his hands before realizing it’s way too cold to stretch out and gathering himself back up. He’s glad Kori and Roy found each other; the Outlaws seemed to have a quirky little team dynamic that works well for Jason. Loyalty to each other and nothing else; no all-important “Mission” or some other abstraction to get in the way. Just three friends looking out for each other. It sounds nice, simple in the way the best things always are.

“Good for them.”

"How's the Demon and Replacement?"

He huffs good naturedly, "Don't call them that, they're your brothers. _Tim_ and _Damian_ are good, thanks for asking. Timmy’s back here on break for a couple weeks. He still asks after you, you know."

"What, making sure I'm not still plotting his demise?" A little dimple comes out in Jason’s right cheek. God, he'd forgotten about that. 

"No way Jay, it’s too late; he knows you've warmed up to him by now."

“Lies, damned lies.” 

"Anyway, the death-plotting is supposed to be Dami's job."

Jay snorts over his coffee, "Poor Timbo. The Demon's relentless."

"I said "supposed," they were weirdly sort of getting along tonight. Mostly by making fun of me, actually."

"You are very makefunable."

"Hey, I've been voted Sexiest Hero by the Inquirer like five times running."

"I'm not sure what that statement was supposed to accomplish."

"Sexy is an accomplishment in itself."

"Sexy must involve freezing to death because you look like you're going to vibrate off this building."

"Not everyone can be a human furnace, Little Wing."

"Don’t you have a cold weather suit?"

"It got shredded by Killer Croc last week."

"You're such an idiot."

"I get by on my looks, anyway."

Jason scooches a few inches closer, and suddenly Dick finds himself cocooned in the insulated warmth of Red Hood’s leather jacket.

"Oh my god. I could marry this jacket." He feels every muscle from his torso up relax, and he feels bold enough to press himself up against Jason from thigh to shoulder. 

"You're such a little girl."

But look who's still not been shot or shoved off a building after snuggling up to the big bad Red Hood...this guy! 

"I'm a toasty little girl, though."

"I'm sure that sounded better in your head. Want a cookie, little girl?”

“What?” 

Jason magically produces one of those holiday tins Alfred always mails out for the holidays. Dick hadn’t been sent any cookies this year, presumably because he’s at the Manor so often to eat them fresh. Still.

“Are you fucking--how’d he even know where to send them? I don’t know where you are half the time.”

“That’s like asking where Wonder Woman comes from. There are still mysteries in this universe, Dickie.”

The tin is presented to him, Jason holding the hinged lid up, before it's tugged slightly back.

"Now I don't want you to get too excited, these are on loan."

What a weird thing to say. But Jason was kind of a weird guy.

"Well it's too late for that if Alfred made them."

"Take your disgusting gloves off first, Birdbrain."

Jason’s not wrong, but it's so cold out! However, needs must. Glove off, Dick floats his fingers towards the best snickerdoodles on the entire planet.

Jason slams the lid down on his fingers so hard, the damn thing bends in on itself a little.

"Jesus, goddamnit, Jay! That fuckin' hurts!"

It's actually so cold, he doesn't feel much, but the principle still counts.

Jason’s laughing so hard, he almost rolls off the building.

"You're ff-fuckin' face!"

He swears his fingers are a little swollen. And bluer. Well, it was cold too. 

Later that night when Dick tells Tim all about it, Tim gets this goofy look on his face.

"He Pretty Woman'd you?"

"What?"

"You know, Julia Roberts and Richard Gere."

"I know what _Pretty Woman_ is Timmy, I was born before you, wasn't I."

"Have you actually seen it?"

No.

"It's been awhile."

"You remember the scene, he gives her the necklace? Richard Gere snaps the box down just as she reaches for it. It was improvised, so her reaction was all genuine and charming. It's a gif now, see?"

Tim brings it up for him. It was adorable.

"But Julia Roberts didn't almost get her fingers broken off, did she."

Tim laughs, shaking his head, "Jason's such a romantic. I'll bet he quoted it--"

"He told me not to get too excited--"

"Because it was on loan?"

"It's not like it even made sense in that context!"

"You guys are adorable."

"How's Kon these days?"

"Still just my best friend, Pretty Lady."

"Fuck off."

"You don't need those files by tomorrow anymore I guess?"

"I meant to say how much I love and appreciate you, my genius little brother."

"Get me a cookie and a coffee and we'll be square."

Tim was the best.

* * *

Now.

There's a letter in his hand, and he's not sure what to do with it. He's sitting in the café, and his food's cold, and he can't decide if calling Jason is exactly the right thing to do, or absolutely the wrong thing to do. Might as well ask.

> >>can I call you?
> 
> >>I'm off at 6 today
> 
> >>got your letter
> 
> >>I wasn’t supposed to tell you that
> 
> >>oh it's dick
> 
> >>you probably knew that. you kind of burn through numbers tho
> 
> <<roys a dead man walking
> 
> <<it wasn’t for anyone to see
> 
> <<im fine
> 
> <<its something I do for myself, Dinah suggested it as an outlet. Roy overstepped and having something private shared like that is just the last thing I needed today 
> 
> >>I'm really sorry, J
> 
> <<its not your fault
> 
> <<i had a lot of meds on board when I wrote that, just FYI
> 
> <<if you could just not share it with anyone else, that would be super
> 
> >>of course!
> 
> >>I will have my own discussion with B
> 
> >>none of this will be a part of it
> 
> <<whatever
> 
> >>i know Roy overstepped, but he loves you
> 
> <<ohhh I know. Don't worry. If he wasn't already at therapy camp, he'd be in trouble
> 
> >>are you by yourself? I'd like to see you, LW
> 
> <<im fine, dick. I'm on a tropical island, and I'm not going to off myself. Kori's in and out. I'll come see you when my piss returns to a normal color
> 
> >>I'm not going to sleep well until I see you
> 
> <<sounds like a you problem, Goldie
> 
> >>I hope you know how much you are loved, J. I'd give it to you straight, but I wouldn't want you to have a stroke and die
> 
> <<hold on, i smell something, must have left the toaster on
> 
> >>that's not a real thing!!
> 
> <<you're not a real thing!!
> 
> >>I'm going to track you down, LW. I need a vacation anyways, losing my famous golden glow up here
> 
> <<quit your dumb fuckin day job, ill give you an address right now
> 
> >>but im a workin girl, need the cash!!
> 
> <<my drug money will be enough for both of us
> 
> >>you'll be my sugar daddy? ;)
> 
> <<see, now you made it weird. 
> 
> >>firstly, you said I have a great ass, secondly, I apologize bc according to babs I do always go too far, thirdly ill make you a deal
> 
> >>if you give me your location, I will not invade but instead I'll send you a letter of my own, and I'll make it a good one. One I normally wouldn't share. That way we'll almost be even
> 
> <<firstly, ROY said you have a nice ass, I just passed that info along
> 
> <<Secondly, again. I was pretty high when I wrote that
> 
> <<Thirdly, deal, but no dick pics, only dick words
> 
> >>Sure, LW, sure.
> 
> >>heyyy thats the first dick pic joke I've ever heard!!!
> 
> >>dealdealdeal

Jason sends a PO Box address and a picture of the ever gorgeous Koriand’r frowning down at the camera, glorious orange chest on full display. The physics of her bikini make Dick believe in the power of humanity to do good things in the world. She's holding two beers, and gesturing towards the photographer.

> <<really suffering here, the staff is a little too familiar, Alf would be appalled
> 
> <<kori says no more screen time, its beer o clock for the wounded soldier
> 
> <<help me, m'dyin
> 
> <<kori says you'd be surprised, you don't have a better ass than Roy, you're just more flamboyant about it
> 
> <<tell Alf you need some cream for that siiiiick burnnnn
> 
> <<sorry, gtg, kori needs me to untie her top, no one likes a tan line

Dick actually laughs out loud, feeling his headache fade to the outside edges. He’s still staring at the screen, biting his lip and trying to decide what to type next like the adolescent girl Jason always tells him he is, when the waitress walks by. 

“Food no good, hun?” 

He looks up, then down at his untouched club sandwich and cold coffee. “Oh-- uh, I hadn’t had a chance to dig in yet.” 

She laughs, and grabs his mug. “I’ll get you some new, _hot_ coffee. Give you some time to think of something cute to say.”

“Thanks,” he smiles. 

He looks back down, and types:

> >> Talk to you soon, LW
> 
> >>In case I forget to tell you later, I'm really glad you came back.

* * *

Jason stares down at his phone before tossing it on the shaded table beside him. He needs to stop before he says something stupid.

He picks up the beer Kori just handed him, watches her glide beautifully to the surf.

Fuck.

This is all Roy's fault.

**Author's Note:**

> I make reference to 'Heroes in Crisis' as in the therapy retreat Roy has gotten himself to. You might know how that goes...I can't decide if I'm going to honor that particular piece of canon or not. I'm leaning towards NOT.
> 
> Thank you!! Kudos and comments make my whole entire year!!
> 
> I am planning a third part, Dick's reply obviously.
> 
> Sorry there hasn't been any smooching yet. I am scared to ruin it, but I think they belong together. So. Next time!!!


End file.
